Bath Salts
by blowtorchacurlyfry
Summary: Impulse made her yank open the door. Booth's tongue caught in his throat. There stood Temperance, her wet skin glistening, her damp hair trickling a steady drip into her carpet, and nothing but a towel wrapped around her body.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, fox does. Believe me, if I did, B&B'd be doing all sorts of "stuff"

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already. For non-profit purposes only.

I write stuff including fan fiction for myself, but this is the first one I decided to actually upload and share. I thought this would be a nice first one to post. Hope you enjoy. I'm a little nervous coming out of my shell and sharing my work with the world, so please be kind and comment if you want. I probably won't continue this one, but who knows? Enough talking. B&B goodness!

Bath Salts

--

When Temperance Brennan got home to her apartment, she immediately drew a hot bath for herself. The gala party commemorating twenty five years of partnership between the Jeffersonian and the FBI had not gone well. She disliked parties of all kinds mostly because her inept social skills made mingling with large amounts of strangers an unenjoyable experience. Avoiding any invitations for small talk, she had stayed with Zack and Hodgins, who were also not enjoying themselves. Hodgins hated these things because he was showcased for his financial benefits to the Jeffersonian, and Zack despised them for the same reasons she did. Angela had shed her jacket into Brennan's arms the moment they entered the room and disappeared, not having been seen since. She was no doubt off enjoying herself, reaping benefits; socially and possibly sexually. Not that there was much to scavenge, Brennan thought. Booth, meanwhile, had drifted to the food tables and seemed to be dealing with his desire to not be there by gorging himself on carrot sticks.

So the three of them stood in their corner of the room, stiffly clutching untouched wine glasses, and listened to Hodgin's humorous comments about random people in the room, and what their probable profession might be based on appearance. These were all unlikely, since they knew everyone worked for the FBI or the Institute, but were amusing none the less. Dr. Goodman occasionally surfaced through the crowd and dragged her or Hodgins away to meet someone of importance (completely ignoring Zack). They would dodge the person or person's in question as quickly as possible, and return to their corner.

At 11:30 the party started to waver, and Goodman told them they could leave, after telling the three them that they had been antisocial, cold, and uncooperative.

"You made us go!" Hodgins said disbelievingly to an already vanishing Goodman, and Brennan silently groaned. Here we go. If they had just agreed and apologized, and stated that they would attempt to "mingle" more next time, they could all escape. But no. Goodman whirled around and spent the next ten minutes reinstating why this was important: reinforce bonds with important figures within the government, make the lab look good, funding, blah blah. Brennan thought that they were lucky to eventually get out of there at all. She was still clutching Angela's jacket, like a mother holding her child's backpack so he could go off and play. She would probably find her own ride home.

She stepped out of her green party dress and let it fall to the floor of her bathroom, not bothering to pick it up and hang it. She lit half a dozen small candles, dumped a copious amount of hyacinth bath salts into the hot water, and turned the lights off. The candles flickered orange as she stepped into the tub. Closing her eyes and indulging in the warmth, she slowly removed her earrings, and took her hair down...

There was a knock on the door.

Her eyes flew open as irritation flooded her. She had thought Angela probably wouldn't remember her jacket until tomorrow, and even if she did, she had expected her to call tomorrow morning and ask her to bring it to work, not traipse back to her place to retrieve it. Maybe Ange hadn't been lucky tonight. Maybe she didn't realise the time.

Grumbling, she reluctantly pulled herself free of the water's warm, soothing arms, and wrapped a towel around her body. As she opened the door of the bathroom, she remembered it was the weekend. No work tomorrow. Couldn't Ange do without it for two days? Padding to the front door, she yelled, "who is it?!'' loudly rather than looking through the eye hole in the door. She was irritated, after all. Booth's muffled voice answered from behind the door.

"Uh, it's Booth, Bones..."

Who else could it be? she thought sarcastically. Part of her annoyance seemed to disappear, replaced with humour at the situation. She was no stranger to his late night calls.

"What do you want, Booth? I was in the middle of taking a bath."

"You say that like it would turn most men away."

Impulse made her yank open the door. Booth's tongue caught in his throat. There stood Temperance, her wet skin glistening, her damp hair trickling a steady drip into her carpet. A flowery smell he associated with Bones seemed to be magnified, perhaps by her bath, and she was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her body. He swallowed, his eyes on her chest, and extended his right arm straight out, a plastic bag bearing Thai food dangling on the end of his hand. A Native making a tribal offering to her breasts. Continuing to stare at the towel, he heard himself mutter, "I...uh, uuuuh ...brought... food." When she said nothing, he tore his eyes away from their residence on her chest, and looked at her face. She was staring at him, an amused expression on her face.

"I came to visit," he said quickly.

"Wong Foos?" She said, ignoring his staring, and took the plastic bag and examined its contents of take-out boxes.

"How can you eat anything, Booth, you just consumed, like, half a banquet table at that party."

"Oh, well, I noticed your appetite lacked, thought I could help. Besides, Ranch Dip doesn't do much for me." He flashed that grin.

"Booth, it's after midnight."

His response was typical.

"Awww, come on, Bones, it's the weekend! This is time for socialization! You know. With real, alive, people."

She remembered she was lecturing at NYU tomorrow morning. At 11:30. Flight time was about an hour 45, not counting actually getting to, through, and away from airports. She had yet to finalize and organize her notes. She had planned to do that this evening, but had conveniently blocked the party out from not wanting to go, until Ange had reminded her. How could she have forgotten?

"Booth, I'm really tired, and as I said, I was taking a bath."

_And I can't believe we're having this conversation while I'm dressed like this, _She thought.

"Well, then I'll just have to eat this all by myself," he said, snatching the bag back. She stared at him a moment, lips pressed.

"Oh, alright, come in."

He jumped upwards once in triumph and zoomed into her apartment like a little child. She smiled, and shut the door behind him. She was secretly glad he was here. She told him she would rinse off and change. She returned to her bathroom, and a little reluctantly pulled the plug in the tub. Turning the lights back on, she blew out all the candles.

When she came back in to the living room, she had donned a tank top and sweats. That flowery smell was once again trailing behind her, more prominent than usual. She sat down on the couch with a box of Thai, and they proceeded the evening with a remote fight.

He had already turned on the flat screen and come across a football game, when, smiling smugly, she snatched the remote from his grasp and smoothly navigated to a special on the ancestral similarities between "Aves" and Dinosaurs on some nature channel. Making the argument that it was her TV and her apartment, and therefore her decision on what to watch, he countered by pointing out that she wouldn't even have the TV if it weren't for his constant insistence that she wasn't whole with out that "32" of wonder." She said she never even used it except when he was around, and was a waste of wall space. After ten minutes of remote appropriation, back and forth, and considerable laughter, they compromised by settling on an old western.

45 minutes later, Booth glanced over at Brennan, and realized she was sound asleep, her head resting on the arm of the couch and her legs curled under her, in what he thought was a very un- Bones-ish manner. Booth wasn't sure why. Perhaps her professionalism, her science, the skeletal knowledge was striped from her when she was curled asleep like that, leaving behind, well, just Bones. She looked beautiful. With a pang, Booth remembered she was lecturing somewhere tomorrow, and thought maybe it was a bad idea to come tonight. It was almost one in the morning. Booth quietly got up and turned the TV off, wondering as he did so if the change in noise and light would wake her. It did not. He cleaned up the empty Thai food boxes that they had finished, and put half of the remaining leftovers in her refrigerator. The other half he would take. Then he went to her bedroom a moment.

He went back to her sleeping form on the sofa, and looked at her a minute. She looked so peaceful. Slowly, he put his arms under her knees and around her back, and carefully picked her up. Clutching her warm, limp body to his chest, he walked to her bedroom and placed her under the already pulled-back covers. She shifted a little in her sleep, and then was still again.

Carefully he pulled the bed covers over her. As an after-thought, he picked up her alarm clock, and checked the time it was set to, and turned it on, so she would get up on time. Then he stood back and looked at her a moment. Stealing himself, he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. Then he left the room.

Back in her bedroom, Brennan heard the front door close, and opened her eyes.

Her mind was spinning. What was that about? There was one thing she did know. A tingling giddiness she couldn't explain was spreading throughout her entire body from a point on her forehead. She could still feel the lips for a long time afterwards. She didn't close her eyes again for a long time either. She didn't sleep well.

--

well, there you go. Please comment if you want. The whole bath thing was not inspired by the season 3 finale if you want to know, i wrote this a long time before that. This also made me think of something, if anyone has an answer. Do medical examiners/coroners ect. get a "weekend?" I mean bodies are coming into the lab all the time, and often there's like, pour exemple, only one forensic pathologist working in a lab all the time, they cant just be like "o sorry we cant recover that body today, it's the medical examiners day off," how does their time off work? anyone know or have ideas? They don't really show this in Bones, their weekend or whatever.


End file.
